Peur et désir
by kymbersmith90
Summary: For Diana Bishop, Oxford was the only place to get her PhD in History of Science. But an afternoon spent in the Bodleian Library studying the Ashmole manuscripts will tell her much more about herself, and the world around her, than she could ever hope to learn from her professors.
1. Chapter 1

**Big thanks go to Beth for encouraging this piece and giving me support as I ventured into writing for a new fandom.**

* * *

Diana tightened the elastic around her ponytail before she took a step back and smoothed a hand down her shirt. To say that she was nervous was an understatement. When she'd first filled in the application for Oxford University, she'd honestly never expected to get the place.

She gave her reflection a confident nod before turning to grab the bag she'd packed the night before from its place sitting on one of the chairs at her small table, and looped it over her shoulder. Unusually for England, it appeared to be a rather nice day, but Diana had seen enough to know that the weather could turn at any moment. So she made sure to snag a light jacket before she headed from her room and out of her college.

While she was nervous about her first day at the infamous university, Diana was also eager to get stuck into her course. Oxford had some of the very best historians in the world, and their manuscript collection in the many libraries around the city was unrivaled. Her passion for history had developed after spending a summer studying in England, learning about the exploits of kings and queens as she explored the city. Now that she was getting the opportunity to study for a graduate degree from Oxford on the history of science, Diana knew that her love for the subject would only continue to grow.

After all, who didn't want to learn history at the oldest surviving university in the English-speaking world?

With her nerves carefully contained, Diana made her way through the old buildings and towards the location she'd been given for her very first lecture of the year. As she walked, her eyes scanned the city, taking in the awe-inspiring archeology that made up the many different colleges that belonged to the university. Everything about her time spent in England, so far, had been completely different from her time spent at college in Maine. Diana had fallen head-over-heels in love with the country – and all it had to offer her.

While her first lecture was more of a welcoming introduction to her course than it was educational, Diana still found every word of it fascinating. She was a little surprised to learn just how small her tutorial classes would be, but not at all surprised by the expected workload that had a few of her fellow students groaning. Diana had known that she would spend the majority of her time in the library, working on the many research papers and essays that were expected of her.

But that didn't stop her from accepting the invite from a few of her peers to head to the pub for lunch when they were finally released ninety minutes later. While she'd always thought of herself as being somewhat of a loner at times, preferring her own company to those around her, Diana was looking forward to getting to know others who shared her passion for history.

So after sending a quick text to Sarah to let her aunt know that her first official day was going well, Diana followed Gillian Chamberlain through the bustling streets of Oxford, to one of the pubs that the student body liked to frequent - thanks to the much cheaper prices it had a reputation for charging.

"Where are you originally from?" Gillian asked, as Diana eased down into a seat beside her new friend with a pint of beer in hand.

"Madison, originally. It's a tiny little village in upstate New York."

"Moving to Oxford must have been a shock for you," her friend chuckled, sipping at a small glass of white wine.

"Just a bit. The college I went to in Maine helped, but I still can't quite get my head around knowing that our tiny little village has about as many residents as halfof New College does. That's crazy."

"Well … if you ever need someone to show you around, I'd be happy to do so," Gillian offered. "I did my undergrad here at Oxford and I grew up just outside of the city - so I know the area well."

"Thank you. I will definitely take you up on that," Diana promised, before she turned her attention to the guy at the end of the table who was calling her name.

* * *

Diana's first week at Oxford passed by in a flurry of activity.

When she wasn't attending lectures or tutorials she found herself spending time in one of the libraries on campus, acquainting herself with the layout of the buildings and the process of checking out the books that she needed. And when she wasn't at the library, she could usually be found at the boathouse.

Diana had taken up rowing during her first year of college, at a time where she'd genuinely started to believe that she might be going insane. The stress of moving away from home and attending school in such a large city had left her feeling off-balance. She'd become depressed and withdrawn, locking herself away in her room for days on end and only ever venturing out for lectures or class. It had gotten to the point where Diana had been convinced that she was making strange things happen around her, as a result of her isolation. And that was when she knew that she needed help.

One of the guidance counselors on campus had suggested that she should consider finding a hobby away from academia to help her destress, and it hadn't taken long for Diana to fall in love with rowing. It was something she could do alone, at virtually any time of the day, and she quickly found that the rhythmic motions needed to propel herself across the water were more calming than the yoga she'd also taken up.

While Diana knew that she wasn't anywhere near the standard required to join the teams that took part in the infamous boat race every year on the Thames, she'd been welcomed into the rowing club at Oxford with open arms. As a result of that, she spent virtually every weeknight at the boathouse.

* * *

Diana's second week of term was even busier than the first, with her lecturers and tutors diving straight into the curriculum and setting their first series of assignments for the year. Because of the sharp increase in her workload, Diana found herself declining an invitation to join her friends for drinks on Friday afternoon, at the same pub they'd all been to during the first week of term. Instead, she planned to head for the legendary Bodleian Library.

Since her arrival in the city, Diana had only ever stepped foot inside of the building twice, but each and every time it had never failed to leave her breathless for those first few moments. The building wasn't just big and imposing, it was architecturally beautiful and unlike anything that she'd ever seen in Maine.

Diana wasn't ashamed to admit that she'd lost many hours standing outside of the building, just admiring its design. But that afternoon, as she fished her university ID from her bag, it wasn't the brickwork that caught her attention.

"Dad?"

The man walking across the courtyard looked eerily similar to the images of Stephen Procter that Diana had taken with her when she'd left Madison. He looked just like the pictures of him that hung on the walls of her aunt's home, and exactly like the memories of the man she'd kept tucked safely away inside of her mind, since the day she'd last seen him.

"Dad!" she called out a little louder, as she hurried in his direction.

A group of undergrads was making their way through the courtyard from the opposite direction and Diana was a little ashamed of the way she shouldered through the students as she rushed after the man that appeared to be her father's doppelgänger. The group of people briefly blocked her view of him as she tried desperately to fight her way through them, but when she finally pulled herself free, her father, or rather – the man who had looked just like him – was gone.

Diana turned around in circles for a moment, checking the faces of anyone and everyone in the courtyard as she tried desperately to spot the man who had caught her attention. But it rapidly became clear that Stephen Procter was most definitely not in the middle of the courtyard of the Bodleian Library.

Which made sense, given that he'd died when Diana was seven.

"Get a grip, Diana," she muttered to herself, as she turned to head for the entrance of the building.

Unfortunately, she'd been far too focused on trying to find a ghost than on the people around her, and with her first step forward, Diana found herself colliding with something large and firm.

"Oh God, I am so sorry," she apologized, as strong hands shot out to grip tightly to her upper arms, keeping her steady on her feet.

"No harm done," he assured her, pulling back to look down at the woman who had walked straight into him.

His gaze felt like the whisper of those first few snowflakes in winter when it landed on her skin, and Diana raised her eyes slowly to meet those belonging to the man that she'd hit. When she did, she cringed a little in his hold. She might have been new to the campus and she certainly didn't know everyone there, but the way the guy was dressed screamed his status at her.

She'd just walked straight into an Oxford University professor.

"Are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched her face pale further.

Diana dropped her eyes with her embarrassment before pulling them back up to meet his gaze once more. She didn't want to come across as rude, given how they'd met, but her head was spinning with everything that had just happened and she was finding it hard to focus on his face.

"Yeah. I'm … no, actually. No, I'm not," she finally declared, as she took a staggering step back. The professor's arms shot out once more to keep her steady on her feet and his brow creased with his concern. "I uh … I think I'm just gonna go back to my room," she told him, suddenly eager to get away from his piercing stare. "I'm sorry again."

Diana turned on her heels before he could say anything else, leaving his arms to drop back down to his sides as his eyes followed her all the way across the courtyard and down onto the path outside.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

The strings were tightening around Diana as she struggled against them, trying to dislodge enough of them to fight her way free. But every time she writhed they seemed to tighten impossibly further … until she was fighting for breath.

Diana gasped as she woke with a start, struggling against the sheets pulled over her legs as the remnants of her dream slowly faded. She'd been having the same one since just before her parents had died, but it had been _years_ since she'd last experienced it.

After spending twenty minutes trying and failing to get back to sleep, she gave up and decided to head over to the boathouse. She knew she'd be exhausted by the time her classes finished later that afternoon, but she was hoping the calmness of the river would help to clear her mind and let her focus until she could finally crash again.

A dreamless sleep came easily for her later that evening, and Diana was incredibly grateful for it.

* * *

It was almost a week later when she found herself on the way back to the Bodleian Library once more. Diana was a little ashamed to admit that she had been avoiding the place after what had happened in the courtyard the last time she'd visited.

But she could only stay away for so long.

With Gillian by her side, she made her way through the glass doors and up to the third floor, where the Duke Humphries reading room was located, without any more ghosts from her past crossing her path.

The two women took up a place either side of one of the long reading benches and pulled out their laptops, allowing the devices to load while they filled in the request slips for the books they would need that afternoon.

For the first hour or so they worked in silence, occasionally trading books when they found something that they thought the other should read, before going back to their own papers. It was easy and familiar, and Diana appreciated that. She'd always taken great comfort in spending time in the library back in Maine, and she was happy to see that what had happened the week before hadn't managed to ruin that for her in Oxford.

After finishing the paragraph she'd been working on, Gillian pulled the screen down on her laptop and whispered to her friend that she needed to call her mother, before making her escape from the building. Diana watched her go before turning her attention back to the book she'd been studying. She was so close to finishing the research needed for her essay, and if she could get it done that afternoon, she had promised to reward herself in the form of a night out with her friends.

"Ancient history?" a familiar voice asked softly.

Diana lifted her head to see an equally familiar face staring down at the discarded book by her left elbow.

"Professor …" she trailed off, realizing that she had no idea what the man's name was as she stared up at him. She hadn't noticed just how tall he was when she'd first ran into him. Nor had she realized just how handsome he was. His eyes flashed a unique shade of blue-grey when they caught the light streaming through the windows behind her, which only served to highlight the sharp angles of his jawline. His hair was dark and lush, the kind that made sane people wish they were stylists just so they'd have an excuse to run their fingers through it. And although he was dressed head-to-toe in black, Diana could sense the power underneath the fine wool and silk of his clothing. The kind of power that came from carefully defined muscles and years of training.

"Clairmont," he replied slowly, as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Professor Clairmont." He slipped long fingers into the breast pocket of his jacket before withdrawing a small business card that had his name and contact details printed onto it, along with a string of letters that told Diana the man had an impressive educational background.

"I'm sorry again about last week, Professor Clairmont. I was feeling a little unwell and wasn't quite myself."

"That okay," he assured her. "I just wanted to check that you were feeling better. You didn't seem terribly steady on your feet when you left here. I was half-tempted to follow you, just to make sure that you got back safely."

"I did, thanks. And it was nothing a good night of sleep and some time on the river couldn't fix."

"I'm glad to hear it." Professor Clairmont straightened up a little at the sound of a door opening in the distance, and quickly withdrew his hand from where his fingers had been tracing the golden letters of the title on the book closest to Diana's arm. "I'll leave you to your studies, Miss. Have a good day."

"Bishop," Diana called out, a little too loudly given her surroundings and the glares she got from fellow academics in the immediate area. "It's Bishop," she explained, when Clairmont turned back to look at her over his shoulder. "Diana Bishop."

An odd look seemed to cross his face but before Diana could ponder too much on the cause of it, his features even back out into a pleasant smile. "Enjoy ancient history, Diana Bishop," he said, turning once again to leave.

Professor Clairmont disappeared from her line of sight just as Gillian made her way back through the room to take her seat once more.

"I'm sorry about that," the redhead whispered, as she opened up her laptop and pulled out her notebooks again. "It's my mother's birthday today and I wanted to catch her before she left for work. But once she's on the phone, I can _never_ get her off it. Is everything okay?"

Diana shook her head a little to dislodge the thoughts of Professor Clairmont that were currently filling it, and then turned her full attention back to her friend. "Yeah, sorry. I just got lost in my own mind for a moment," she chuckled. "Did you wanna do another hour here and then grab a drink together? You can tell me all about your mom then."

"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," Gillian whispered back, before turning her eyes down to the paper that she needed to finish before the end of the week. The last thing she wanted to do was fail one so early into the first term of the year.

Diana did her best to do the same, but she couldn't seem to shake the image of Professor Clairmont's small smile from her mind long enough to focus on finishing her work that afternoon.

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	3. Chapter 3

"So, tell me about your parents," Gillian invited, as she set a glass of wine down for herself and then handed Diana her own.

"There isn't really much to tell," Diana whispered sadly, staring down at the glass cupped between her hands. "They died when I was young so I don't really have many clear memories of them."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Diana. I had no idea."

"It's okay. You weren't to know," she assured her friend. "I was raised by my aunts, but we never really had a traditional kind of relationship either. I still call them Sarah and Em, instead of Aunt Sarah and Aunt Em. What about your family?" she asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation towards safer grounds.

"It's just me and my mum," Gillian explained. "My dad took off when he found out that she was pregnant with me – but it's okay. We get along well and we've got a lot in common – so that helps. I think she misses not having me in the house, though."

Diana nodded her understanding because even though Sarah and Em had each other, she knew that they missed having her around too. Sarah wasn't the best at voicing her emotions but Diana could hear the wistful tone her Aunt's voice developed, every time they spoke on the phone.

"We uh … we're pagans," Gillian randomly added, almost like she was testing her friend's reaction to the news. "So at least I'll be able to see her soon, when we celebrate Mabon."

"Really? My aunts are pagans too so they raised me as one, but I don't really follow any of their traditions anymore. Small world, huh?"

"Why did you stop following the traditions?" Gillian asked, genuinely curious about her friend's nonchalance over the subject.

"I'm just not sure how much I believe in that sort of thing," Diana argued. "I remember that my mother always used to tell me bedtime stories about witches and princes. She was convinced that there was magic in this world and that it was a beautiful thing. But after she died, I guess I stopped seeing it. Don't get me wrong, it's fascinating to study, but I think that's probably as far as my interest in that kind of thing goes. Sorry."

"Oh, don't be," Gillian assured her, as she drained the last of her drink. "We'd be very boring people if we all thought and believed in the same things."

Diana nodded her head in agreement but she could tell that her friend wasn't being completely honest with her. Something about her answer hadn't been what Gillian was expecting, and she honestly couldn't put her finger on why.

She gave up trying to work it out when she felt a familiar, cool fluttering sensation along the back of her neck. Diana didn't need to turn her head to see who was watching her. She had only ever felt that sensation once before. But when Gillian stood up to excuse herself and head for the bathroom, she couldn't help but shift slightly to give herself a better view of the pub.

It had gotten much busier since the two women had first arrived. The tables were now filled with small groups of students and faculty, chatting amongst themselves as they sipped at cheap beer or glasses of wine. But it was one of the tables along the back wall that caught her attention, along with the familiar face sitting at it.

Professor Clairmont was positioned between a man and a woman that Diana had never seen before, with a glass of deep red wine in his left hand. His head wasn't turned her way and he looked for all intents and purposes to be fully focused on the slightly younger man to his left, who appeared to be telling a rather animated story. But Diana could tell that the professor's full focus didn't truly lie with his companions.

She could still feel the cool whisper of his gaze as it passed over her body.

"Sorry about that. Did you want another?" Gillian asked, pulling Diana's attention away from the table at the very back of the room.

A part of her wanted to say yes, just so that she could continue to observe Professor Clairmont as he interacted with his colleagues. But the more rational side of Diana's brain reminded her that she still had deadlines to meet before the week was over.

"Maybe next time?" she offered, as she drained what was left of her wine and stood to grab her jacket from the back of her seat. "Do you wanna head back with me or are you staying?"

"Ugh, I guess I should be a responsible adult and finish this essay," Gillian sighed, as she reached for her own coat and followed her friend from the building.

The effects of Professor Clairmont's icy stare followed Diana all the way back to New College before finally wearing off in the warmth of her room.

* * *

" _It's time for bed, Diana."_

 _The young girl finished brushing her teeth and dropped the toothbrush back into the little cup that sat on the side of the sink. After wiping her mouth with a soft towel she ran through to her bedroom, where her mother and father were already waiting for her._

" _Will you tell me a story?" Diana asked, as she climbed up onto the old wooden bed and underneath the patchwork quilt that her mother had made, while she was pregnant._

" _Of course," Rebecca Bishop chuckled. "Which one do you want to hear tonight?"_

" _Tell me about the prince again," she begged, reaching for her beloved stuffed bear to cuddle him close to her chest._

 _The stories about the dark prince and his witch had always been Diana's favorites._

" _Okay." Her mother took up her usual position at the side of Diana's bed as her father slipped quietly from the room and down to his study. "Once upon a time, there was a little witch with a great deal of power …"_

* * *

The way the breeze blew the loose strands of her hair around her face as she pulled and then pushed her way through the water, had always been one of Diana's favorite parts of rowing. She liked to close her eyes and just let the familiar movements guide her as she made her way smoothly down the river. It was the perfect opportunity to switch off completely, leaving the troubles of her life behind as she simply focused on making those instinctual movements to get herself from point A, to point B.

But that morning, as she sped underneath Donnington Bridge, something tugged at the edges of Diana's awareness. Her eyes sprung open just in time to pick out the figure of someone standing above her, shrouded in the early morning darkness.

To anyone else, the sight probably would have been startling - but Diana wasn't scared. The icy brush of a familiar gaze had all of her instincts screaming that she was safe, so she simply closed her eyes once more and lost herself in the serenity of the early Oxford morning.

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	4. Chapter 4

"You should be out celebrating, Diana. Not stuck in the library all day."

Diana sighed as she shifted the phone against her ear. She should have known that telling her aunt about her new Pagan friend, and Gillian's offer to join her family for Mabon celebrations, would be a bad idea. Sarah had been so worried about her niece's move to Oxford, even if she had hidden it well. Diana had hoped that telling her aunt about her new friend would ease some of Sarah's fears, but instead, it had only seemed to increase them.

"I think you're doing this whole guardianship thing wrong," she chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to study, rather than going out to party?"

"All you ever do is study. A little partying wouldn't kill ya," Sarah threw back at her.

"Yeah, well … I can party when I've handed in this proposal. Speaking of which …"

"You should get back to the library," Sarah finished for her. "Try not to spend _all_ night there."

"I'll try. Have fun celebrating and send my love to Em."

"Talk soon," her aunt promised, before disconnecting the call.

Diana took a moment just to enjoy the silence in the courtyard of the Bodleian Library. Ever since term had started, silence had been difficult to come by. But with the weight of her deadline pressing down upon her, she quickly found herself pocketing her cell phone and heading back inside.

It was September twenty-third, the day of the Autumn equinox – which was also known as Mabon for Pagans. Gillian had mentioned a gathering that her extended family was hosting to mark the occasion, and she had invited Diana to join them for the evening. While Diana appreciated the offer her friend had made, she wasn't much in the mood for celebrating a day she didn't really find all that important, with people she didn't really know. She hadn't wanted to offend her friend, however, so she'd offered Gillian a solid 'maybe'. That 'maybe' became a concrete 'no' when one of her professors requested a research proposal draft the week after the celebration. Diana had been thrilled to finally get the opportunity to throw herself into the area of work that had fascinated her the most, and so, she'd decided to spend Mabon in the Bodleian, fleshing out her proposal with references and quotes so that it would stand a greater chance of being accepted.

She was surprised to find just how empty the large library was, given that it was a Monday evening. It was only a little past six, but as Diana made her way back to the Duke Humphrey's reading room, and the place she'd been camped out since her lectures for the day had ended, the only other person she saw was Sean, who worked at the call desk. Either there were more Pagans in Oxford than she'd expected, or the student body had thrown one hell of a party that weekend and were collectively busy sleeping it off.

Diana made herself comfortable once more as she began working her way down her to-do list, ticking off the books and quotes that had come to mind as she'd begun formulating her research proposal. Every now and then, Sean would interrupt her with a small smile and another old manuscript, tucked safely inside its grey cardboard sleeve. Diana would offer him a smile of her own, along with her thanks, and then he would whisk away the books she'd already finished with.

The hours seemed to fly by and as the library began to darken, Diana's to-do list started shrinking while her proposal grew.

About half-way down her list was a small quote from the book _Notes and Queries_ , that Diana knew she'd find on one the upper shelves. A quick glance around her showed that the reading room was still empty, and she knew she'd feel bad sending Sean a message asking him to come and get the book for her, when she was closer than he was. So she stretched her legs to work out the aches that had developed from sitting still for too long, and then headed for the spiral staircase behind her.

It didn't take her long to find the section where she knew the book would be located, and once she had, Diana began scanning the many spines on display in search of her target. Of course, the book she needed happened to be tucked between two black, leather-bound volumes on one of the shelves that was _just_ out of her reach.

With a slight huff of frustration, she abandoned the books for a moment to scan the area for the step stool often used for such situations, but let out a much louder sigh when she realized there wasn't one in sight. Given the size of the library, Diana knew it would probably take her longer to hunt one down than it had to locate the book to begin with.

"Typical," she mumbled to herself. She pushed up as high onto her toes as she possibly could before stretching out her arm to try and get some kind of purchase on the book. Diana grunted a little with the effort, but every wiggle of her fingers seemed to inch them that little bit closer to her target.

She'd just managed to get her thumb and index fingers around the covers when she felt a familiar flurry across the small of her back.

Diana twisted around in shock and the book went flying from her grasp, sailing over her head to land perfectly in the waiting arms of Professor Clairmont, who was staring up at her with confusion written all over his face.

"Shit," she cursed. "I uh … I didn't mean to do that."

Diana wasn't entirely sure _how_ she'd done it. She didn't think her grip on the worn leather had been tight enough to pull it from the shelf, let alone throw it over her head.

"What _did_ you mean to do, Miss Bishop?" he asked, his head tilting slightly to one side as he surveyed her carefully. Diana brought her arms up to wrap around her chest in an attempt to shield herself from his piercing gaze.

"I uh … I dunno. I was just trying to get the book," she replied, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "I wasn't trying to take you out with it or anything."

Professor Clairmont cracked a small smile at her follow up, almost like he knew that it would take more than a grad student and a textbook to do some serious damage to him.

"Nice catch," she added, as a part of her mind urged her to fill the loaded silence between them. She had a feeling that the professor was looking for one answer in particular from her, but she didn't have a clue what it was. "You have excellent reflexes."

"Yes, I do," he agreed, as he finally turned the book over in his hands to read the title from the spine. While he was distracted, Diana used the time to make her way down from the upper floor and over to where her work was spread across the bench.

Somehow, Professor Clairmont made it there before she could. He gently set the book down into the free space to her left, where she'd set every book she'd been reading that day, before allowing his fingers to trail over the notes and manuscripts already open and waiting for her attention.

"Alchemy?" he asked, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Yeah. I uh … it's always fascinated me." Diana shrugged her shoulders, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her choice of research proposal.

"It's a very fascinating subject," he replied, turning his eyes back to her notepad. He pushed aside the to-do list resting on top and scanned through her scrawled plans beneath it. "Impressive," Professor Clairmont declared. He then straightened up and took a small step back.

Diana flushed a little at his compliment as she brought a hand up to push her hair back behind her ear.

The professor's eyes followed her movement and he swallowed heavily before speaking again. "Is there anything else you need help reaching before I leave?" he asked. "I'd hate for you to take out someone with slower reflexes than my own."

Diana couldn't stop the chuckle that left her lips at his words, even as she shook her head. "No. Thank you, Professor. I'm sorry to have ruined your night."

"You didn't," he assured her. He then turned on his heels and strode confidently out of the reading room. The slap of his fine leather shoes against the hardwood of the floor echoed throughout the empty room with every step he took away from her, perfectly matching the thrumming of Diana's heart inside her chest.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

Matthew Clairmont watched as Diana Bishop finally left the library and made her way back to her room, before following behind her at a safe distance.

Ever since she'd walked into him in the courtyard a few weeks back, he'd been curious about the young woman. Something about her had struck him as odd during those few seconds where he'd held her in his arms, but she'd fled from the library too quickly for him to work out what it was.

Later that same week, he'd heard whispers amongst the student body that there was a Bishop witch in Oxford, and his curiosity had piqued. The Bishops were an ancient and powerful line of witches. Matthew was certain that he'd have sensed someone with that kind of magic the moment they'd crossed the county lines, so he'd brushed off the whispers as nothing but idle gossip and tried to go about his days as normal.

Until he saw her again.

He'd been at the library looking for a manuscript, just as he had been the last time he'd seen her, but this time, she was sitting at a desk working away on a paper with a witch sitting opposite her. Matthew had made himself as invisible as possible while he'd listened to the two of them converse in hushed whispers. It hadn't taken him long to realize that her new friend, the redheaded witch, was trying to pull information from Diana. He just didn't know why.

When her friend excused herself to make a call and headed out of the library, Matthew knew it was time to make his move. He'd only intended to check over the books Gillian Chamberlain had left open on her side of the bench, under the guise of checking on a student who had seemed so off-balance the last time they'd met, but something about Diana had kept him lingering by her side for far longer than he'd intended.

And then she'd told him her full name.

 _Bishop. Diana Bishop._

She was the one the witches had been whispering about.

There was something very odd about Diana Bishop. She didn't smell like any witch he'd ever met before. Instead of the sage, sulfur, and henbane her friend was giving off, Diana smelled of something softer … sweeter. Honey, he realized, after a long moment of pondering. And underneath that was something more complex. Combinations of scents Matthew had never experienced before and others he thought he would never get to experience again.

But what was even stranger was that Diana Bishop hadn't reacted to his presence at all. He knew that her friend was aware of who he was – of _what_ he was – as were the other creatures in the city. But Diana gave absolutely no indication of that. She didn't cower in fear around him, as so many others did, and she wasn't trying to push him away either. Which left Matthew wondering if Diana Bishop really knew who she was.

He tried to shake off the puzzle the Bishop witch had presented as he returned to his lab, losing himself in the work that needed to be done there before the following morning. But thoughts of Diana's status continued to plague him until he'd snapped at Miriam that they were going for a drink.

She'd arched a perfectly plucked brow in his direction at his tone, but one look at Matthew's face had told her that this wasn't the time to question her colleague. So she'd followed him to one of the pubs that the students in the city liked to visit, where Marcus was already waiting for them. Once inside, the two vampires had followed their friend as Matthew guided them over to a table that he seemed to deem necessary for their impromptu gathering.

"Is there any reason in particular that we're here today, Matthew?" Miriam snapped, looking around herself. There were a great many places in Oxford to enjoy a good bottle of Merlot, but this was certainly not one of those. And the Merlot was one of the worst she'd ever consumed.

"I'm following a hunch," was all he said.

Miriam tried her hardest to work out what that hunch was, but eventually gave up and instead, made conversation with Marcus while Matthew sat between the two of them brooding.

When he eventually left with a curt, "See you both tomorrow," neither of them bothered to follow him. It wasn't the first time Matthew's mind had been stuck on a puzzle he was trying to solve, and they both knew that it wouldn't be the last.

But this puzzle … this puzzle was one that just wouldn't let go of him.

Matthew followed Diana Bishop and her friend back to New College and then watched from a safe distance as the maybe-witch made her way up to her own room. He told himself that he was only staying to see if she performed any magic while she was safely locked away inside of the small space, and away from prying eyes. However, even after she'd turned off all the lights the regular human way and climbed into her bed, Matthew had remained in place, watching over her as she slept.

He finally left the rooftop of a nearby building that he'd been perched upon all evening when Diana Bishop left her college the following morning. It was far too early for her to be headed to a class or a lecture, so he followed her path, leaping from roof-to-roof as she made her way along familiar streets and down to the Oxford University Boathouse.

He watched from the shadows as she carried her shell and oars down to the riverside, balancing the pieces carefully on her right shoulder, before she lowered the boat down onto the water and climbed carefully inside. With a gentle push, she eased herself away from the bank and out into the middle of the river.

Diana Bishop was a skilled rower, and Matthew had to admit that he admired her abilities. He never would have guessed that she was such an athlete, given the baggy clothing that she had a habit of wearing on campus. But even as she glided along the river with her eyes closed and a small serene smile on her face, Matthew saw no hint of anything supernatural about the maybe-witch.

So with one last glance at her as she passed underneath the bridge he was standing upon, he finally turned and headed for home.

* * *

Matthew tried to push thoughts of the Bishop woman from his mind so that he could continue focusing on his work for the rest of the week. When whispers of Diana's lack of magical abilities began to grow around the city, it became harder for him to ignore the mystery she was presenting.

The witches had invited her to join them for Mabon celebrations, but she had declined, citing a need to finish her research proposal instead. It was a perfectly acceptable excuse, however, it didn't stop them from wondering if maybe the tales they had been told were true.

Matthew wasn't really sure what made him leave his lab at sunset that evening and head for the Bodleian once more. As soon as he entered the building he could smell her. That sweet scent of honey was wafting through the space, mingling with the wood of the desks, the pencil shavings, and the old leather that came from the many books housed inside of it. However, that evening, the library was missing the usual confusing scents of the hundreds of humans that made use of its facilities every day.

Diana Bishop was sitting at her favored bench in the Duke Humphries reading room, carefully turning pages of an old manuscript in search of something in particular. He watched as she paused every now and then to read a passage that caught her attention, occasionally making notes on a piece of paper before she finally got to the section that she needed. She'd read for longer, typing out summaries on her laptop as she did, before shutting the book and sliding it safely back into its protective box. Then she'd pull the next manuscript towards herself and repeat the process.

It was oddly calming to watch.

When she stood to stretch out her muscles, Matthew pushed himself further into the darkness, making sure that she wouldn't notice him. He wasn't sure how he'd explain stalking a member of the student body if she ever caught him watching her, so he knew it was best to remain out of sight. But the youngest member of the Bishop family was far too distracted by her work to notice the vampire that had been following her all week.

Instead of returning her books as he'd expected, Diana made her way over to the spiral staircase in the corner of the room and carefully climbed it up to the second floor. She took a moment to browse through the spines in one particular section before finally releasing a huff of frustration.

Matthew took a small step forward as he saw her gaze move away from the book she needed to scan the space around her. Whatever she was looking for was clearly out of her reach.

"Typical," she mumbled quietly, before turning back to the bookcase and pushing herself up onto her toes. He watched as she stretched her fingers out as far as they could possibly go, aiming for the spine of _Notes and Queries_ , but she was a few inches too short of reaching it.

Matthew had just made up his mind to step into the room and offer his help when he saw it. Diana's body lit up from within, giving off a blue glow that was so bright it was almost white. The smell of electricity in the air was overwhelming. If there had been any other creatures in the library that evening, Matthew knew they'd have all been drawn to her – like the proverbial moth to a flame.

He hadn't seen a witch that radiant in centuries.

As the glow reached its maximum intensity, Diana's feet began to rise from the floor, slowly pushing her up those last few inches she needed to reach her target. But before she could get a proper grip on the book, something startled her, and with alarming accuracy, the book she'd been reaching for flew off the shelf and over her head, aiming straight for his waiting arms.

"Shit," she cursed. "I uh … I didn't mean to do that."

"What _did_ you mean to do, Miss Bishop?" he asked carefully. The light around her was fading now that she was no longer using her magic, and something inside of Matthew was beginning to fit the pieces of the puzzle that was Diana Bishop into place.

"I uh … I dunno. I was just trying to get the book," she replied, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "I wasn't trying to take you out with it or anything."

Matthew cracked a small smile at her words. As if a book the size of the one in his hand could do any damage to a vampire - which was something that she would know, if she knew what he was.

"Nice catch," she added. "You have excellent reflexes."

"Yes, I do," he agreed, turning his eyes down to the book to give himself a chance to escape her gaze. There was something strangely captivating about the way her eyes would meet and hold his. Nobody outside of his family and closest friends had done that in centuries.

No ordinary witch would ever dare to try.

Which was how Matthew Clairmont knew with absolute certainty that Diana Bishop was no ordinary witch.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

After the events of Mabon evening, Diana didn't see Professor Clairmont again for almost two weeks. She kept her eyes peeled for him every time she was close to the Bodleian, but the enigmatic professor was never anywhere to be seen.

However, that didn't mean that he wasn't around.

She'd taken to scheduling her rowing every morning, before her classes and lectures began, and before the university's teams could fill the river. It was the time of the day where Oxford was still shrouded in darkness, with only the edges of the city feeling the warming kiss of the day's sunlight. There was something so peaceful about being on the river that early in the morning, before the cars began to flood the city with their noise and fumes.

Diana would close her eyes and allow herself to glide over the water, letting all of the stress from her days melt away until all that was left was the serenity of the moment – and that cool brush of a familiar gaze across her body.

The first time she'd felt it after Mabon, her eyes had sprung open and she'd searched the riverbanks for the familiar figure she was expecting to find there. But all she'd been able to see was a slight blurring at the corner of her eyes.

Three days later, she'd given up trying.

Diana was certain that Professor Clairmont was watching over her in some way. She didn't know _how_ he was doing it, but she knew that he was. Something about that knowledge made her relax back into her strokes instead of tensing up with unease. Her gut had told her right from the start that Professor Clairmont was someone she could trust – and it had never yet steered her wrong.

* * *

If Diana had thought that Monday evenings in the library were quiet, that was absolutely nothing compared to Saturdays.

Gillian was at a Pagan festival that weekend, and the student body had seemed to collectively decide that with exams still so far from their minds, Saturdays should never be spent in the library. But not Diana. She loved the silence the Bodleian carried when it was so empty. Without the regular tapping of fingers on keys or the scratch of pencils against paper, the books seemed to hum with their endless possibilities.

Every now and then, she'd find herself needing to return something to one of the bookcases on the upper level, and as she did, another book in the most random of places would catch her attention, practically vibrating with its need to be in her arms. Every single one of them had proven to be key to Diana's research proposal, and she couldn't have been happier about how well things were pulling together for her so far.

Diana was hoping to make her way through the first six items on her list that day, so after filling in a request slip and handing it over to Sean at the call desk, she busied herself with pulling out her notepad and laptop, and getting herself set up.

A faint sound of chattering drifted through the still air of the Bodleian. Diana turned just in time to see Sean headed her way with a pile of manuscripts balancing precariously in his arms.

"Did an influx of students just come in?" she teased.

Sean set the books carefully down on the table before he offered her a curious look. "It's just you and me in here tonight, Diana."

"Huh." She could have sworn that she'd heard people whispering together. Shaking her head a little to clear it, she thanked him for the books and then turned her attention to sorting them into the order that she'd be using them.

The moment she slipped the first of her manuscripts from its case, Diana knew that something was wrong. As her fingers brushed over the leather covering it, her skin prickled like there were thousands of tiny pins embedded in the material. A slightly iridescent glow seemed to be coming from the edges of the pages, illuminating the many scratches on the old bench that she was sat at.

Diana's instincts were screaming at her to put the book back and move on. She could complete her research without it. But her mind was urging her to open it up. To discover the secrets hidden inside of it that made the book hum so much louder with its hidden potential.

Making up her mind, she reached for the manuscript once more, ignoring the goose pimples that erupted over her flesh as she did, before gently resting it into one of the library's cradles. Her fingers trembled ever-so-slightly as she loosened the brass clasp, and the book seemed to open with a soft sigh.

Diana's brow creased as a strange scent filled the air around her, making her stomach churn. She bent her head forward a little and sniffed at the edges of the pages before recoiling back. The book smelled odd. Unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

Except, no … that wasn't entirely true.

Diana could vaguely remember something similar from when she was younger. She'd been in her father's study, looking through the pages on his desk, but she couldn't remember what they had contained or why she'd been doing it. All she could remember was that strange scent that was now assaulting her senses.

Maybe that was why the manuscript had left her feeling so shaken? It was triggering long-forgotten memories inside of her, and Diana wasn't entirely sure she wanted to relive them.

Turning her attention to the document she already had opened and labeled as Ashmole 782, she pushed thoughts of her father's study aside and began making notes on the appearance of the book.

When she'd finished the first of her tasks, Diana eased the cover open to begin assessing the worthiness of the manuscript. The first page was only rough paper but the second was made from parchment and had two inscriptions written upon it.

' _Anthropologia, or a treatis containing a short description of Man.'_

There were no doubts in her mind that the first had been written by Elias Ashmore himself. She'd been slowly making her way through the Ashmole Manuscripts, so she knew his handwriting almost as well as she knew her own.

' _In two parts: the first Anatomical, the second Psychological.'_

The second part had been written in pencil, in a hand that she knew she'd seen before, but Diana simply couldn't place at that moment. It looked to have been added after the first, so she took a moment to briefly note her observations before she lifted the page ready to study the next.

The parchment was heavy in her hands, unlike anything she'd ever felt before, and as she gently turned it over that scent of _wrong_ filled her nose again. She made another quick note about the weight of the pages in her document as she tried her hardest to push aside the feelings that were building inside of her.

The turn of the page revealed that the next three were missing from the manuscript. Someone had taken a great deal of time and care to remove them from the binding, and she frowned a little at why a person would feel the need to do so. What could Ashmole 782 have possibly contained that would make someone want to mutilate the manuscript?

Shelving that thought temporarily, Diana turned her attention to the first illustration on the remaining pages and gasped in surprise. The image was incredibly well preserved, with its bright colors leaping from the parchment. Whoever had drawn it was incredibly skilled – that much was clear – but the image was flawed!

The caption described it as the philosophical child, but everything Diana had learned so far about alchemy told her that it was wrong. The glass vessel the child had been drawn inside of was upside down. The baby should have been a clear representation of a hermaphrodite, either half black and half white with both sets of genitalia, or at the very least drawn with two heads. But the baby in the image she was looking at was very clearly a little girl, with long black hair.

Turning the page gently she perused the next image in the series, but it too was fundamentally flawed. Every image she examined featured some kind of mistake that threw into question all of the research Diana had completed thus far.

She turned another page carefully, making sure she wouldn't damage the fragile images painted onto the heavy parchment, and froze when the setting sun caught the page just right. There was text written upon it, but it was far too faint to read. Diana blinked away the glare from her eyes and tried to focus again, only to find that the words had started moving.

No … that wasn't right … It couldn't be.

Words didn't move.

She must have been seeing things.

Diana shook her head forcefully to try and clear it, but when she looked again the text was still rapidly flying across the page.

She did her best to try and read what it said but the letters were written far too faintly and were moving far too quickly. Diana was starting to feel nauseous from being that close to the pages, with the scent there so heady.

It was only when she noticed the text transfer from the page and begin making its way up her arm that she moved, dropping the parchment and slamming the book closed. Diana pressed her palm to the front cover to keep the book shut and then quickly withdrew it. Some kind of static charge had passed between the manuscript and her hand, and as she looked down into her open palm, she could have sworn that a faint imprint of the book's cover image was lingering upon her skin.

"Diana? Is everything okay?"

The sound of Sean's voice startled her and she jumped in place before turning to face her friend.

"Yeah. I uh … I just don't feel great." It wasn't a lie. Everything she'd experience that evening had left her feeling off-kilter, and all she could think of doing was putting as much distance as possible between herself and Ashmole 782.

"You've gone really pale," her friend worried. "Go home and get some rest. I'll clean up here."

Diana wanted to protest because it wasn't fair to leave Sean to clean up her mess. But instead of voicing that protest, she found herself offering him a thanks as she stuffed her notebook and laptop back into her bag, and hurried from the building.

Diana was so shaken from her encounter with Ashmole 782 that she didn't notice the man who followed her all the way back to her room at New College.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

Matthew had been doing his best to keep his distance from Diana Bishop in the weeks that followed her magical display in the library. For those first few days he'd found himself watching the witch everywhere she went, hoping to get some answers about who she was – about _what_ she was.

It wasn't until Miriam had called on the third day, demanding to know why she was the only one turning up for work every day when it was _his_ laboratory and _his_ research they were conducting, that he was forced to admit he was perhaps becoming a little _too_ fascinated by the mystery the young Bishop witch had presented. So he resolved to keep his distance, only allowing himself to watch as she glided her way down the river every morning. After all, she insisted on leaving the safety of her college before the sun came up, and there could have been _anything_ lurking in the shadows.

That particular afternoon, he'd been on his way to a bar to meet with Miriam and Marcus when it had happened.

Matthew felt a crackle of electricity that seemed to zip through his body, filling him with a need he'd never felt before. A charge had infused the air in Oxford, calling out to all of the creatures in the city, luring them in with the promise of something wondrous.

The blood that normally moved sluggishly through his veins seemed to rush faster as his heart pumped harder. And for a brief moment, Matthew felt almost human once again.

Whatever had been released into the atmosphere was calling to him, urging him to move, to seek it out, and to claim it for himself. But it took him a beat too long to realize where that siren-song was coming from.

 _The Bodleian._

Matthew's legs were moving before he was aware of his desire to run. They carried him down the familiar streets at a pace that was just fast enough not to arouse the warmbloods' suspicions, as his mind began screaming at him.

There was only one creature in Oxford that would be in the Bodleian Library at this time of the day on a Saturday evening. And there was only one creature in the city who didn't seem to be aware that there was a supernatural side to the world she lived in.

Whatever Diana Bishop had done was huge, of that he was certain. The kind of magic that was coursing through his veins and vibrating every particle of his being was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. If every other creature in the city could feel it too, he knew it was the kind of magic they would do _anything_ to experience again.

Matthew only hoped that he could get to Diana before somebody else did.

If she was truly unaware of the supernatural beings living side-by-side with humans, then she was in even more danger than he'd initially believed. There was no way the creature population of Oxford would believe that a Bishop witch was unaware of her heritage. And there was no telling what they'd do to try and force her into recreating whatever had just happened.

When he was close to the library, Matthew forced himself to slow his steps. He'd spent years carefully curating a professional image for himself, and running down the streets into the library after a graduate student wasn't going to help with that image.

The vibrations of his phone in the breasts pocket of his jacket had his steps faltering for a moment, and Matthew pulled it out to see Miriam's name illuminating the screen. He didn't hesitate to silence the call and slide it back into his pocket. Whatever she needed could wait.

His heightened senses were already honing in on the other creatures in the area. There weren't many vampires living in Oxford, but the daemons and witches were already headed his way, whispering about what could have possibly caused the event they'd all felt. Which meant that he didn't have long to get Diana as far away from the library as he possibly could.

 _Maybe he could lure her back to his rooms at All Souls with the promise of a book that would help with her research proposal?_

Matthew was startled out of his musings when the door to the library was shoved open and Diana Bishop emerged out into the courtyard. She was dressed just as she had been earlier that morning, when he'd seen her leave her room at New College, but she was much paler than she had been before. With every few steps she took, she turned to look back over her shoulder and shifted the strap of her bag a little higher up her arm before moving again.

Whatever had happened inside of the library had clearly rattled her, which meant that she wasn't as unaware of her magic as Matthew had first thought her to be. Whatever had happened inside of the building she'd sensed too, but it seemed to have had a completely different effect on the young witch than it did on the rest of the creature population.

"Miss Bishop?" he called out, as she approached the place where he was standing.

Diana either didn't hear him or didn't want to acknowledge him, as she simply shifted her bag once more and hurried straight past him.

Matthew took a moment to consider his options before he turned to follow the young graduate student. He told himself that he was only doing so to make sure that she got home safely, and that no other creatures followed her back. But it wasn't the first time that Matthew had followed the witch, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Every time he encountered Diana Bishop, the mystery surrounding her just seemed to deepen.

And Matthew had always loved solving a good mystery.

That, he told himself, was all he was doing with the witch. He was simply attempting to solve the mystery surrounding her magical abilities.

But even after making sure that she was back in her room, safe and sound, Matthew couldn't bring himself to leave. Instead, he found himself climbing a drainpipe to situate himself on a rooftop a few buildings over from her own, that gave him a direct view straight into her room. He didn't abandon his spot until he saw Diana Bishop leave her college the following morning, headed for the boathouse once again.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

Diana had hoped that some time spent on the river that morning would help her relax and shake off whatever the opening of Ashmole 782 had done to her the day before. But as she propelled herself down the Cherwell, she found her strokes more aggressive and haphazard than ever before.

The soft flurry of a gaze drifting across her skin wasn't helping matters. Diana had never been more aware of it than she was at that moment.

When she lost control of her strokes and the front of her shell collided with the edge of the embankment, she decided that enough was enough. Diana steered herself down to a small dock close to a local pub, before pulling herself up and out of the boat, and then the boat from the water.

"I know you're here," she called out. Her voice was oddly calm given the storm of emotions whirling inside of her. "You might as well show yourself … _Professor Clairmont._ "

For the longest moment, she was sure he wasn't going to reveal himself, and Diana actually started questioning her sanity a little. _Had she imagined the feel of his gaze on her skin?_ But when the shadows near the deserted pub began to move, she knew that she'd been right. He'd been watching her every morning since their chance encounter at the Bodleian, at the start of term.

"Why are you following me?" she asked, as Clairmont took one final step forward to bring himself out of the darkness and into the early morning light.

"I'm not."

"Don't lie to me. I can feel you watching me every day so why are you following me, Professor Clairmont?"

Diana watched as his mask of calm cracked a little when he realized that she'd been able to sense his presence all along, but it wasn't enough to tell her what he was thinking.

"Someone needs to make sure that you're safe," was all he said, and Diana's anger flared brighter with his vague reply.

"Safe? From what, Professor? _You're_ the one following me! If anyone here is a danger to me, I'd argue it's the professor who stalks his students."

"I'm neither stalking you, nor your professor," he reminded her gently.

"Oh, I'm sure that will make _all_ the difference when I report you to the head of your department." Diana folded her arms over her chest as she waited for Clairmont to attempt to try and defend himself. But he remained just as stubbornly silent as she was.

"What do you want from me, Professor?"

"I told you before, I just want to make sure that you're safe."

"Safe from what?"

Clairmont's mask of neutrality remained firmly fixed in place as he stood silently before her. Diana contemplated hitting him to see if that would finally get it to crack again, but before she could begin listing all of the reasons why that wouldn't be a good idea, he finally spoke.

"From whoever is the first to work out that it was _you_ in the library yesterday evening, and that _you_ were the one who caused the disturbance felt throughout the city. And they will, Diana. They _will_ find out that it was you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, because how could he have possibly known what had happened? She was alone virtually all day in the Duke Humphries reading room. She'd have known if he was there. She'd have felt it.

"Really? Because it looked to me like you'd felt it too when you left the building last night."

Diana wanted to be outraged that he'd obviously been following her for longer than she'd thought, but her mind was stuck on his words instead. _Had he felt that same sense of unease that she'd experienced? Why hadn't Sean said anything about it at the time?_

"What did you do, Diana?"

"I didn't _do_ anything. I just … why am I even discussing this with you?"

"Because I might be the only person in this city who can keep you safe. So tell me, what did you do, Diana?"

Clairmont took a small step forward, not large enough to come across as threatening, but just close enough for her to see the concern in the corners of his eyes. Whatever his reasons had been for following her, Diana knew that he truly believed he was keeping her safe by doing so.

"I told you, I didn't _do_ anything. I just opened this manuscript and –"

"– What manuscript?"

Clairmont looked like he wanted to reach out and hold onto her arms, almost like he knew that what she was about to say would end up changing both of their lives forever. But instead, he balled his hands into fists by his side as he waited for her reply.

"An Ashmole manuscript," she whispered.

Clairmont's face showed no signs of change but Diana could almost sense his body tensing under the all-black ensemble he was wearing once again. "Which manuscript?" he repeated. His eyes were locked with hers, pleading with Diana to trust him, to open up to him, and she was helpless to refuse.

"Ashmole 782."

Professor Clairmont's mask finally shattered as the series of numbers fell from Diana's lips. A wide range of emotions flashed across his face before he finally pulled himself back together again, and Diana realized with a start that clearly, the book meant something to him.

"Are you sure it was 782?" he asked.

"Yes. I might only be a lowly grad student, Professor, but I'm not illiterate."

Clairmont shook his head fondly at her feisty reply but Diana's anger was returning once again, making the action seem more infuriatingly condescending than adorable.

"How did you find the book?"

"The same way that I find all of the books for my research proposal. I filled in the request slip, handed it to Sean, and the books were waiting for me an hour later."

Matthew was almost frozen with surprise as he tried to process the implications of what Diana had just said. _Could the missing Ashmole manuscript really have been in the Bodleian Library all this time?_

"And where is it now?" he pressed, because if that manuscript was what had caused the disturbance he'd felt the day before, then Diana was in much bigger trouble than he'd initially thought.

"In the library," she replied slowly.

"You returned the book?"

"Of course I did. I wasn't about to _steal_ a manuscript from the Bod. What kind of person do you think I am?"

Matthew ignored her question in favor of the ones racing through his mind. The book was finally in touching distance and a large part of himself was urging the rest of his body to _move._ To run to the Bodleian and take it for himself before someone else could. But something kept his feet rooted to the floor – or, more accurately, someone.

"Would you care for some company in the library this morning, Miss Bishop?" he asked after a moment, as he offered her one of his most charming smiles.

Diana simply huffed in his direction before turning back to her boat so that she could ease it down onto the water once again.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

Diana wasn't shocked to find Professor Clairmont sitting at her usual reading desk in the library later that afternoon. He'd opted for the side opposite the one she favored and looked to have been there for a while, given the size of the stack of books and papers that surrounded him. While she wasn't surprised to see him, she still couldn't quite believe the man had the audacity to turn up there so soon after their conversation about his stalking tendencies earlier that morning.

"Miss Bishop," he offered in greeting.

Diana dropped her books onto the desk a little more forcefully than she normally would before she busied herself with removing her jacket. Clairmont barely lifted his head from his work, but that didn't stop her from noticing the small smile that curved at the corners of his lips when she huffed a little with her frustration.

"Professor Clairmont," she bit back. "Isn't there some other student that you could be annoying this afternoon?"

Clairmont didn't offer her a response, instead, he turned his attention back to his work as Sean approached the desk, his arms loaded with the manuscripts that Diana had already requested.

"Is everything okay?" the other man asked, picking up on the tension between the two people at the table. Sean set the books down carefully in Diana's preferred spot as his gaze flicked back and forth between them.

"It's fine," Diana assured him. She gave Sean a soft smile of thanks as she settled herself down into her seat, but he didn't look convinced by it and lingered a moment longer to see if she would say anything else. When it became apparent that the professor wasn't the only person she was ignoring that afternoon, Sean headed back to the call desk with a frown of confusion creasing his face.

He could have sworn that the man sitting with Diana Bishop was a scientist, not a historian.

Diana tried her hardest to focus on her research that afternoon. She wasn't sure what Clairmont was doing, but his pen seemed to flow over his page at a consistent speed, so she assumed he had some of his own work to do. His concentration on the pages in front of him made it much easier for Diana to ignore him than she'd previously expected. She was just closing her first manuscript to pull another towards her when Clairmont finally lifted his head from where it had been bent over his work since she'd arrived.

"It's a little busy in here today, wouldn't you say?" he whispered.

She hadn't really given it much thought, but as Diana lifted her head to scan the room, she was surprised to find that he was right. The library wasn't by any means crowded, but normally there were only a dozen other students at desks scattered around the room. That afternoon, there were at least twice as many people in the space.

"Maybe they're studying for a test? Or working on a paper," she suggested. It was a university, after all.

Clairmont hummed his agreement but kept his gaze trained on her face. "The man three rows down on your left doesn't even have books with him," he eventually stated, before freeing her from his stare to turn his attention down to whatever it was that he was working on.

Diana wasn't sure how the professor had known that, considering his back was to the guy in question. However, now that he'd mentioned it, she couldn't help but notice how many people were there looking busy, and actually doing nothing at all.

"It doesn't matter," she hissed at him. "I'm not gonna –"

Diana's words were cut short by the sharp look Clairmont turned on her. While his lips said nothing at all, his eyes were screaming their message loud and clear. She needed to stop talking – now! The hard look behind his stare had her adrenaline rising as every fiber of her being screamed that there was something _wrong_ with the man sitting opposite her. His absolute stillness was unnerving and the way his eyes held her own made her feel a little like a deer, stunned by metaphorical headlights.

When she finally managed to swallow heavily around the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her throat, Clairmont's trance broke. His nostrils flared a little and he blinked a couple of time's in rapid succession, before finally relaxing back into his seat. The professor opened his mouth, presumably to offer her some kind of apology, but it wasn't his voice that she heard calling her name.

"Diana? I thought I'd find you here. Is everything okay?"

Diana turned her attention away from the enigmatic man still staring at her to offer her friend the easiest smile she could muster. Unfortunately, Gillian appeared to be too busy glaring at Professor Clairmont to notice it.

"Yeah, it's all good. Professor Clairmont and I were just having a little debate. I guess we got a bit too heated."

Gillian didn't look terribly convinced by her friend's words as her gaze swept from Diana, over to the man sitting opposite her, and then back again.

"I should be leaving now anyway," Clairmont declared. "Good luck with the rest of your research, Miss Bishop." Somehow, he had already managed to gather his belongings, so he stood in one fluid movement and then took his leave.

Gillian couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from his figure until he disappeared completely from her line of sight.

"Is everything okay?" she asked again, as she dropped down into the seat beside her friend. It wasn't lost on Diana that she'd passed up the chair Clairmont had vacated, which also happened to be her usual seat at their reading bench.

"Yeah. The professor just has some strong opinions on my research topic," Diana lied. "What about you? How was your meeting?"

Gillian either chose to ignore her question or didn't hear it at all, as instead of replying she asked, "How do you know him?"

"Professor Clairmont? He's here in the library sometimes doing his own research when I am. Why?"

"You shouldn't be spending time with him, Diana. He's not to be trusted."

"What do you mean he's not to be trusted? He's a _professor._ What's he supposed to have done?" she asked.

"Nothing. He's just … it's just some rumors I heard at the start of term."

Diana wasn't sure how she knew it, but she was absolutely certain that Gillian Chamberlain was lying to her at that moment.

"I think you should stay away from him," her friend continued. "You know, just to be safe."

"Okay," Diana agreed.

She didn't exactly have plans to track Professor Clairmont down any time soon, but she also knew that she wasn't going to be actively attempting to keep her promise to Gillian either. Her friend was lying to her, and Diana _hated_ being lied to. Gillian knew something about the professor that she didn't, which only made Diana more interested in finding out what Matthew Clairmont was _really_ up to.

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	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Diana pushed away from the bank the following morning, she knew that something was wrong. The usual flurry of snow that told her Professor Clairmont was watching over her was gone, and in its place was something colder and harsher. She was still being watched, but the person surveilling her wasn't the enigmatic professor.

Diana tried to push aside the unease she felt as she made her way down the river. She told herself that whoever it was watching her had been presented with plenty of opportunities to attack while she'd been preparing her shell, and they'd chosen not to. Which meant that she was probably safe.

 _At least, she hoped she was safe._

As she glided over the water she allowed that sense of serenity to wash over her once more, drowning out all of her concerns and insecurities as it did, until memories of Ashmole 782 and the effect it'd had on her were virtually erased from her mind.

The moment she stepped back out onto the embankment her calm and carefree attitude vanished, as those spikes of ice felt like they were being driven into her back. A part of her toyed with the idea of calling out her newest stalker, the same way she had with Clairmont the day before. But without knowing who was watching her, Diana didn't want to risk doing something reckless while she was alone.

That feeling of being watched only disappeared when she stepped back on campus later that morning and joined her group of friends, ready to start her day.

* * *

"Did you wanna head to the library?" Gillian asked, as they packed away their stuff at the end of the final lecture of the day.

"Yeah. I still have a ton of research left to do before I even think about submitting this next draft. With all our other deadlines ahead of us, I'm starting to panic a little about getting it done on time," Diana worried.

"Welcome to life as a grad student," her friend teased, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, I still haven't honed my proposal down yet. All I know is that I love studying Ancient Egypt, so I wanna stay in that area."

"It'll come to you," Diana assured her, as the two women made their way out of the room and headed for the exit. "Usually at the worst time and in the worst place. Mine came to me in the shower one morning."

"I'm normally more of a bath girl, but I might have to start switching to showers in that case," Gillian teased.

Everything seemed so perfectly normal as the two women made their way to the Bodleian that Diana almost forgot about what had happened the day before. That illusion of normalcy was shattered, however, the moment she stepped into the Seldon End of the Duke Humphries reading room.

The space was even busier than it had been the previous day.

Diana recognized a few of the people inside the room, including the man who was once again sitting and staring at the desktop without any books around him. But most of the people she had never seen before.

"What's up with all of this?" she whispered to her friend.

"Huh. What do you mean?"

Even without being able to see her face, Diana could tell that Gillian was hiding something from her again. Her friend's tone was far too nonchalant to be genuine.

"The library's _never_ this busy," she pressed, as they took their seats at their usual table. "I don't even recognize half of these people."

"Well, it's a big university, Diana. Maybe they have papers due soon? Or an exam to revise for?"

"In October? I highly doubt that," she snorted out, as she began setting up her laptop. While she waited for it to load, Diana filled out a request slip and took it over to Sean before making her way back to their table.

It was as she was settling herself down into her seat that the feeling of being watched returned. Whoever was following her had a gaze like icy daggers, drilling into the side of her head with every move she made. Diana did her best to try and scan the area for some sign of her newest stalker, but nobody seemed to be paying her much attention.

She tried to pull her mind away from everything that had happened that week and steer it towards the research that she needed to finish, but even without Clairmont in the room, Diana couldn't seem to keep her mind off him. She could hear his words echoing on a loop every time she looked up and found the room busier than it had been before.

"… _And they will, Diana. They_ will _find out that it was you."_

These people couldn't possibly have been in the library for her, could they?

A part of her wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, just so they could assure her that she wasn't going crazy. But with Gillian hiding something from her, Diana's gut was telling her not to confide in her friend. She knew that she couldn't bring it up with Sarah and Em either. That would only worry them both, and the last thing she needed was for her aunts to board a plane to England just because they were worried about her mental stability. Which really only left Diana with one option. She still wasn't sure how much she could trust Professor Clairmont – It was obvious that he was hiding something from her too, even if it felt like that something was in touching distance of her understanding – but he'd at least seemed open to the idea of a discussion, before Gillian had rudely interrupted them.

"Diana Bishop?"

"Yes?" she asked, a little louder than she had intended, as she lifted her head to see who had called her name. Diana had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't seen the man approaching their reading bench.

"I'm sorry to have startled you," he offered. "I saw you from across the room and I just wanted to take a moment to introduce myself. My name's Peter Knox. I was a friend of your mother's."

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	11. Chapter 11

"… _My name's Peter Knox. I was a friend of your mother's."_

Diana sat in stunned silence for a moment before she eventually asked, "You uh … you knew my mother?"

"Yes. I knew her when she was your age," he explained, taking another step closer to their reading bench. "I'm sorry, this is so rude of me, I just … you look so much like her that I had to say something."

"Oh, um … that's okay," she assured him. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

Diana knew there was more to the unease that was churning in her belly than just being caught off guard. Something about the man standing in front of her didn't feel right, and the way that he'd gone about introducing himself came across as far too rehearsed to have been genuine. Besides, what were the odds that an old friend of her mothers would just happen to run into Diana in the library that afternoon, so soon after her encounter with Ashmole 782.

"I apologize for that. Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee one day to make up for it?" he offered. Diana had just opened her mouth to decline his offer when a smug smile began curling at the corners of his lips, and Knox added, "Or maybe you'd prefer tea, like your mother used to?"

All of Diana's instincts were screaming at that moment for her to get the hell out of the library and as far away from Peter Knox as she could. The man in front of her radiated carefully controlled danger in a way that she'd never felt before. Diana shot a brief look over to Gillian, hoping that her friend would provide her with some kind of backup, but Gillian simply offered her a small, reassuring smile before turning her attention back to her work.

Diana was smart enough to know that packing up and running away wouldn't help her case right then, so instead, she did her best to fix what she hoped was a polite smile on her face, as she gave Knox an answer. "I like both. And I'm uh … I'm a little busy at the moment with school, but if you have a card, maybe I could call you sometime?"

Diana had absolutely no intention of ever using that card, but Peter Knox didn't need to know that.

"Of course," he agreed, his smile faltering slightly at her rejection as he fished inside his breast pocket for a small, white business card. When he handed it over, Diana took a moment just to scan the information on it, and her heart sank when she saw what was written there.

"You work at the university?"

"Just in a guest capacity. I specialize in studies of the occult, so I'm occasionally called upon to offer my experience to some of the students whose educational paths lead them in that direction. The university has been kind enough to provide me with resources to help with that."

Diana should have guessed that his academic area of specialty would end up being just as creepy as the man standing before her. And with him assisting students on campus, she knew that avoiding Peter Knox wasn't going to be as easy as she'd first thought it would be.

"Then I'm sure our paths will cross again soon," she stated, because she was confident Knox would ensure that. "But right now, Mr. Knox, I really need to get back to my work. I have a meeting with my advisor later this week and I want to have the rest of this section done before then."

Knox's smile fell a little further, but he recovered quickly and took a small step back from the table as he did. "Of course. I remember how important Rebecca's work was to her. It's only natural that you'd have inherited her drive and passion in that area. I hope to see you again soon, Miss. Bishop."

Diana felt a little nauseous uttering the words, "You too," but she did so with a smile, hoping that would be the last she saw of Peter Knox for the foreseeable future.

* * *

"Did you think that was a little odd?" Diana asked, as she and Gillian left the library two hours later with a few thousand more words down on paper.

"Huh?"

"Peter Knox. Didn't that whole thing seem a little off to you?"

"In what way?" Gillian asked. "He seemed nice enough to me."

"I dunno. I guess I just … bringing up my dead mom seems like an odd way to start a conversation," she explained, because now that she was talking it through with her friend, Diana was starting to worry that maybe she'd overreacted to the entire meeting. The unease she'd felt from opening Ashmole 782 still lingered in the pit of her stomach, and Professor Clairmont's words still echoed around the edges of her mind.

 _Was it possible that she'd just been projecting all of that onto someone who was simply trying to be nice to her?_

"I thought he seemed pretty sweet. Clearly, your mum made a huge impression on him if he felt the need to come and introduce himself to you." When Diana's frown didn't budge, Gillian hastened to add, "Maybe this is one of those cultural divide things? I don't think you need to read too much into it, Diana. I honestly think Mr. Knox was just trying to be friendly. He knows that you're an American in a foreign country. He's probably just trying to make you feel more at ease here."

Diana didn't like the sheer about of guesswork that was present in Gillian's attempts to reassure her. But if her friend wasn't overly worried about the strange man that had approached them that afternoon, she was going to do her best not to be either. So Diana stamped down on the apprehension building inside of her to join her friends as they left the university's campus and headed for their favorite local pub.

* * *

That feeling of weightlessness that came with being on the water was a soothing balm to Diana's soul as she glided under the Donnington Bridge. Sleep hadn't come easily for her the night before, but the smell of freshly cut grass that tinged the air, and the cool breeze that washed over her face, was far more relaxing than a full seven hours would ever be.

Diana was so lost in that rhythmic push and pull of her oars that she didn't even realize the usual coldness that would accompany her morning workout was gone – until it was replaced with something much harsher. Her eyes snapped open as her movements faltered, and Diana turned as best she could in the small shell to survey her surroundings. She couldn't see anyone on the embankment, but she knew someone was there.

She knew exactly who was there.

As her mind began whirling with all of the different possible actions she could take at that moment, Diana forced herself to begin her strokes again as she carried on taking her usual route down the river. She needed to get home, behind the safety of a locked door, before she did anything about her newest stalker. The best way to get there without alerting him to her awareness of his presence was to behave as if everything was normal.

Diana's strokes came a little harder and a little faster as she turned her shell in the widest part of the river and then began heading back to the boathouse. His gaze was more prominent there, so she hurried to put away her equipment and grab her jacket before heading back to New College at a slight jog. Whoever was watching her was following, and their eyes on her form felt like a red-hot dagger had been plunged into her back.

The moment she had the door to her room closed and locked behind her, Diana allowed herself a moment to sink back into the wood as she tried to force her racing heart to calm down.

"… _I just want to make sure that you're safe_ _."_

The words came from nowhere to shatter the panic building inside of her, and suddenly, Diana knew what she had to do. She pushed herself away from the door and made her way over to where her crowded desk was standing in front of the largest window in the space. It took her a few moments of frantic searching through books and under notepads to find what she was looking for, but when she did, the unease in her stomach finally settled into something more manageable.

Diana pulled her cell phone from her bag and quickly tapped out the number printed on the small piece of card before hitting send. When the line connected she didn't even allow the person on the other end of it to speak before she voiced what was on her mind.

"Professor Clairmont, it's Diana Bishop. I think I need your help."

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	12. Chapter 12

Matthew had been busy analyzing a sample of blood that Marcus had brought back from his travels with him, when his phone began to ring. He didn't pull his eyes away from the results displayed on the monitor while he fished the device from his pocket, but he did flick them down to check the screen before he pushed the answer button. The number was unknown to him, however, the international dialing code gave Matthew a fairly good indication of who might be trying to reach out to him that morning.

"Professor Clairmont, it's Diana Bishop. I think I need your help," she said, before he could finish lifting the phone to his ear.

Matthew shot Miriam and Marcus a look that had them sighing as they reached for their jackets before storming out of the building. Neither one of them could understand their friend's obsession with the Bishop witch, even if she did seem unsure of her heritage. After all, she wouldn't be the first witch in the world who was raised not knowing what she was. But Matthew wouldn't even entertain their questions about just why she was so important to him, which meant that he was hiding something bigger from them both.

When the door finally clicked shut behind his friends, Matthew reached out to flick off the monitor in front of him as he asked, "What can I do for you, Miss Bishop?"

For all of the urgency she had shown when the call had first connected, Diana Bishop took her time answering his question. If it hadn't been for his impressive hearing skills, Matthew would have been worried that the call had dropped, or that maybe she'd hung up on him. But he could hear her exhaling over the line, which meant that she was probably just trying to find the right words to express what she wanted to say.

When she finally spoke again, it was with a kind of doubt coloring her tone that he hadn't been expecting.

"You're uh … you're a member of the university's faculty, right? So you know other faculty members?"

"I know some of them," he answered carefully. It wasn't exactly a lie. Matthew might have known all of the names of the faculty at Oxford University, but he only knew a handful of them well enough to talk to. "It's a big staff, Miss Bishop."

"Do you uh … do you maybe know of a man called Peter Knox?"

If Matthew had been human, he was certain his blood would have run cold at the mention of that name.

"I know _of_ him," he replied, keeping his tone as even as he could. "How do you?"

As far as he was aware, Peter Knox was rarely involved in day-to-day issues on campus, and his area of specialty wasn't anywhere near close to what Matthew had seen of Diana's research proposal. Aside from them both being witches, Knox had absolutely no reason to be anywhere near Diana while she was at school.

"He found me in the library yesterday. He said that he used to know my mother and that he wanted to come over and say hi, but …"

"But …" Matthew prodded, when she'd remained silent for far too long. He wasn't sure when he'd stood from his seat, but the mention of Peter Knox's name had him pacing the floor as a way to work out the tension building inside of him.

"Something's not right. I know I probably sound crazy but I don't … I don't trust him. I don't feel safe around him. And I know he's been following me. I haven't seen him but I can _feel_ him watching me. My friend Gillian thinks I'm being paranoid but there's something not right about this, Professor Clairmont. And I didn't know who else to turn to for advice."

Matthew's eyes slid shut as he clenched his free hand tight against his thigh. He knew that Diana would become a target after she'd found the book – he just hadn't expected her to be targeted by one of her own, and certainly not so soon. Now that Knox was involved, things were about to become even more complicated.

While he was practically worshipped by his own kind, Matthew knew that Peter Knox wasn't to be trusted. And he certainly didn't trust the man around a young, naïve and unknowing Bishop witch. He'd heard the whispers about Knox's obsession with Diana's mother, and in particular, the power she had displayed. There was no way Matthew was going to leave Diana to suffer the same fate. Not if there was anything he could do to stop it.

 _God, the things he wanted to do to Peter Knox at that moment …_

"Professor Clairmont?" Diana whispered, startling him out of the darkness that was beginning to plague his mind. "Are you still there?"

"Yes. Sorry. I um … are you safe?"

"I'm in my room," she replied carefully.

Matthew was already moving around the lab, doing everything that needed doing to close it down so that he could leave. "Good. Stay there," he told her.

He was pretty sure that Diana would be safe in her college dorm. Peter Knox wouldn't want to risk making some kind of scene and outing himself in the process. The punishment for such a crime was far too harsh for him to chance it. But Matthew also knew that wouldn't deter him for long. Knox would find another way to get to Diana and when he did, she'd be in even more danger.

"You uh … you don't think he'd hurt me, do you?"

Matthew wished that he could tell her no. The fear that tinged the edges of her voice was so unlike the strong confidence he'd come to expect from Diana Bishop – and it was almost painful to hear.

"He's been following you, Diana. I don't think you should take that chance," he argued instead, as he grabbed his jacket and fled from the building. Matthew was almost certain that Knox had probably given up and gone home, now that the streets were starting to become busier. It would be hard for someone like him to explain why he was lingering outside of New College if he was caught. But Matthew also knew that he'd feel better when he could see Diana with his own eyes again.

"You've been following me too," she pointed out.

"I know," was all he said, because Matthew couldn't deny that he was a danger to her too. While every single instinct inside of him was busy screaming that she needed to be protected, those same instincts were also demanding that he take her and consume her every time he saw her. Diana Bishop wasn't truly safe around him, and as much as it pained him to admit it, Matthew also knew that it helped him to control those warring instincts inside of himself.

"Should uh … should I report him?" she finally asked, and he was oddly grateful that she hadn't picked apart his last statement. Matthew had a feeling that Diana knew he wasn't entirely safe to be around either, but she'd clearly decided he could be trusted more than Peter Knox could be.

"No. That might end up causing you more problems," he reasoned. "Peter Knox is a highly respected academic in this town, and he frequently consults with the police. It would be your word against his and I can't guarantee they'd listen to you."

"Then what do I do, Professor Clairmont? I can't stay locked in my room forever. I have a lecture in two hours! I'm not wasting this opportunity I've been given because some creepy guy thinks I look like my mother."

Matthew had to fight back the smile that was tugging at his lips at the fierceness of Diana's declaration. That was more like what he'd come to know of the young Bishop witch. He had a feeling that if Peter Knox pushed her far enough, the old warlock might end up getting a nasty surprise of his own.

"You carry on as normal," Matthew instructed calmly. "Peter Knox won't approach you while you're on your way to classes. He won't want to do anything that could draw unwanted attention to himself. He loves his reputation too much to risk damaging it."

"And what about when I'm not in class? He found me in the library and he was watching me on the river this morning. I'm not giving those up just because of him."

"Then we'll just have to make sure that Peter Knox knows you're not alone at those times."

"And how are _we_ going to do that?" she challenged, the sass in her voice more prominent than ever before.

"Don't worry about that. You have a class to prepare for," Matthew reminded her. "I'll speak to you soon, Miss Bishop."

He disconnected the line before Diana could say anything else – but even from his place hidden in the shadows, Matthew could just make out a huff of irritation from the direction of her dorm room.

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	13. Chapter 13

Professor Clairmont had been right.

As she made her way from New College to each of her seminars and lectures that morning, Diana could neither spot nor sense Peter Knox anywhere around her on campus. By the time her lunch break rolled around, she felt far more relaxed and confident than she had earlier that morning, so she decided to splurge a little and suggested a trip to the pub with her friends.

Diana only had one lecture left after lunch, and when their professor drew it to a close, she wasn't at all surprised to see Gillian turn her way to ask if she was planning to head for the library. Normally, her answer of yes would have come automatically, but that afternoon, Diana hesitated for a moment over it.

A large part of her wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room, away from Peter Knox and his creepy stare until he finally got the hint and fucked off back to whatever dark corner of the city he'd crawled out from. But another, slightly larger, part of her refused to cower away and waste the precious resources the Bodleian had to offer. So as she hefted her bag up onto her shoulder, Diana met Gillian's eyes with a firm stare and told her friend to lead the way.

Her confidence faltered a little as they approached the stunning building, but Sean's easy smile at the returns desk soon had her relaxing once again.

"Hey, Diana."

"Hi, Sean. How's your day been?" she asked, giving Gillian a slight nod that said the other woman should go ahead and grab them both a table.

"Busy. That science professor who sat with you before is back again, and everyone's going crazy trying to keep him happy." Sean crouched down to retrieve a couple of the manuscripts that Diana had requested the day before, and then placed them onto the countertop. "I really don't get the hype," he whispered, leaning in close so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "I don't even know who the guy is. He can't be all that impressive, right?"

Diana snorted out a soft laugh as she gathered the books into her arms, checking their spines to make sure that they were the ones that she needed. "I don't really know who he is either," she whispered back, before offering Sean a cheeky wink and turning to head into the reading room.

She'd been expecting to find Professor Clairmont sat at the reading bench she and Gillian usually occupied, but instead, only her redheaded friend was there. It didn't take her long to find him, however. That usual flurry of snow fell over her right shoulder the moment she stepped into the room, and it followed her as she made her way over to the bench that Gillian was already sat at. Diana set her books gently down on the table and began to unpack her supplies before she turned her head to find Professor Clairmont sat a couple of tables down from her own. He was watching her carefully, and something about that ice-cold gaze of his felt safe and reassuring after the panic she'd experienced that morning. Diana offered the man a soft smile that she hoped conveyed her thanks for all that he'd done, and then turned her attention towards her laptop as she unlocked the device and opened up her research proposal.

Her list of things to do that day was relatively short, but she knew that it would take her hours to get through everything on it. She'd been making some good progress with her research project and her advisor seemed pretty happy with the direction in which she planned to take it. But she'd also provided Diana with a few more thinking points to look into, and the young student wanted to cover those that afternoon, just to see if any of them would be relevant to what she was trying to convey.

For almost two hours, Diana made her way methodically through the points that she wanted to cover. She used the research provided by the manuscripts she'd requested, and her own notes, to weave a few of her advisors talking points into her paper as effortlessly as she could. After hitting save on all of her open documents, she looked up to check on how Gillian's afternoon was going. Diana could tell from the look on her face that her friend wasn't having the same luck as she was.

"Are you okay?" she whispered across the desk.

"No. I think I'm just gonna delete it all and start again," Gillian huffed out quietly. "It's all crap anyway."

"I'm sure it's not," Diana reassured her. "Before you delete anything though, you should show it to your advisor. He might be able to help you see where it could go, or what to keep and what to scrap."

Gillian's eyes flicked down to the clock on her screen before she raised them again to meet her friend's sympathetic gaze. "He has office hours starting in ten minutes."

"Then go," Diana urged. "You'll work better when you've talked through your problems with someone who better understands your work."

Gillian hesitated for only a moment before she began gathering up all of her supplies, stuffing things into her bag as quickly and quietly as she could. "Thanks, Diana. You're the best," she praised, swinging her bag off the desk and onto her shoulder (and almost taking out the guy in the seat next to her as she did).

"I'm merely doing for you what I know you'd do for me. If you don't fancy coming back later, text me and let me know what he said?"

"I will," Gillian promised, but she was already on her way out of the library. She was hoping to make it to her advisor's office before anyone else decided to make use of those couple of hours of his free time.

Diana allowed herself a moment to watch her friend leave before she turned her head towards the spot that Professor Clairmont had occupied when she'd first entered the room. She had felt his icy gaze on her a couple of times while she'd been working, but it was always very brief – and usually gone before she'd even had a chance to process what she was feeling. The professor was still sat where he had been earlier that afternoon, with his head bent over a notepad and a different book to the one that he'd been reading when she'd last looked his way. But before Diana could turn her head, his own shot up from what he'd been working on.

For a brief moment, Diana wondered if he could feel her gaze the same way that she could feel his, and then she realized that the professor wasn't looking in her direction. Instead, he was glaring at the main entrance to the Duke Humphries reading room.

Diana couldn't see whatever it was that had gotten such a severe reaction from him, but she didn't need to see it to understand what was happening. Or, more accurately, what was about to happen.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

Diana's gaze was pulled away from Professor Clairmont when the sound of a door opening and then closing made its way through the silent library. She turned back around to look at the professor, but was shocked to find his reading bench empty. The panic she'd felt earlier that morning, knowing that she was alone and Peter Knox was following her, was beginning to build once again. It seemed to chill the air in the library as a wind whistled through her ears – until a cool hand closed over her own, snapping her back to reality.

"Act naturally, Diana. Don't draw attention to yourself."

"Where did – " Diana's eyes darted back towards the empty desk Professor Clairmont had been occupying all day, and then down to the space that Gillian had been sitting in. Clairmont's notepads, full of his elegant handwriting, and the manuscripts he'd been reading now filled the space her friend had just vacated. To anyone else, it would look as if he'd spent hours in that seat.

"It doesn't matter right now," he explained calmly. "As far as anyone's concerned, I'm just helping you with your research proposal."

"You're a biochemist," was all she could think to say, because somehow, having Clairmont sitting in front of her like a human shield felt far more reassuring than it should have been.

"You'd be surprised how knowledgeable I am when it comes to the topic of history," Professor Clairmont teased, before withdrawing his hand. "Just keep your eyes focused on your work, Diana. Don't give him an opening to speak to you."

Diana wanted to say something – _anything_ to express her gratitude at that moment – but the sound of even footsteps on the old wooden floor could be heard echoing around the space, and she knew that she was out of time.

She tried hard to focus on the manuscript she had open in front of her. There were notes that needed to be made and comparisons that she wanted to draw. But the words on both the parchment and her laptop screen all seemed to blur together, twisting and turning into one long black line of gibberish.

Concentrating on anything was even harder when Diana felt a sharp stab on the top of her head – which told her that Peter Knox had finally located her. She saw Clairmont shift ever so slightly, straightening his back and sliding across the seat so that Knox's gaze was no longer on her, and Diana could have wept with the relief it brought her.

After a few moments of strained silence she felt Clairmont shift again, but this time, he leaned in a little closer so that he could use his pen to point to a particular paragraph she was supposed to be reading.

"See this part here, Miss Bishop," he whispered. "This directly contradicts what we spoke of yesterday. And I believe that when you refer to one of the other manuscripts on your list, you'll see that it _too_ contradicts the points you made yesterday afternoon."

It took a moment for Diana to realize that he was trying to focus her attention back on the work she had to do. And even longer for her mind to finally read the passage he'd pointed out to her, which did indeed contradict what she'd read the day before.

"Thank you, Professor. I'll be sure to make a note of that for further investigation."

Diana tried to keep her focus on her work after that. She didn't manage to accomplish even a quarter of what was on her to-do list for the day, but she did tick off a couple of items – with Professor Clairmont's guidance – so she tried not to be too disappointed with herself.

Throughout it all, Diana could feel the occasional red-hot stab of Peter Knox's attention on her. She hadn't lifted her head to see where he'd decided to linger and watch her from, but she assumed that Clairmont somehow knew. Whenever she felt Knox's harsh gaze on her, the professor would shift in his seat to block it until she could relax once again.

Diana was just starting to think that Clairmont's plan might actually have worked when she saw the professor stiffen in front of her. His back straightened and his shoulders pulled up, making him look stiff and imposing even though he remained seated. Every single one of his muscles seemed to clench as he held himself tightly in place.

"Miss Bishop?" questioned a voice to her left, and Diana just managed to stop herself from sighing heavily. Although, if the small upturn of the corners of his lips told her anything, Professor Clairmont hadn't missed it.

"Mr. Knox," she replied, lifting her head briefly so as not to seem impolite before she turned her attention back to the notes she'd been making on her laptop.

"I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to join me for a coffee? You've been working hard all day, surely a small break won't hurt? I'd love to share some stories with you of the time I spent getting to know your mother."

Although he didn't move a muscle, Diana could somehow sense the rage that was filling Clairmont's body at the use of her dead mother as a bargaining chip. Somehow, it gave her the confidence she needed to straighten her spine and reject the offer.

"Thank you, Mr. Knox, but I'm afraid I'm working to a very tight deadline and I already have plans for the rest of the day."

"I'm sure your friends won't mind," he chuckled, although, to her ears, it sounded a little forced.

"Diana's plans for this evening are with me," Clairmont interjected smoothly, his eyes still tracing the words in the paragraph he'd been reading. "We wish to continue our healthy debate without disturbing those who use the library as a silent working space." He lifted his eyes to fix the man at their side with a hard stare before dropping them back to the manuscript's page again.

Knox's face clouded with fury at the idea of Clairmont blocking his attempts to spend time alone with Diana, but it quickly passed as he turned his head to scan the room. A few people at benches close by were eyeing the three of them suspiciously, and Diana realized with a start that Clairmont had managed to pick up on their frustration at the loud conversation taking place in their working space.

"I see," Knox finally stated, although he made no immediate move to leave. "Perhaps another day then?"

Diana hummed in what she hoped was a non-committal tone while she stubbornly typed out the next line of notes she wanted to make.

For a long moment, there was a painfully awkward silence in the room as Peter Knox stared down at the table where Diana and Professor Clairmont were working away, almost as if he wasn't there. When he finally spoke again, his voice had dropped to a whisper and his tone was much harsher than before.

"I'd be careful who you spend your time with if I were you, Diana. Your parents would never have approved."

He was gone before the shocked outrage could fully settle in Diana's veins.

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	15. Chapter 15

The library was caught in that magical time of the day, somewhere between being too bright for the lights to come on, but dark enough to remind them all that the day was wearing on. Diana was still making her way through her to-do list, frustrated that Peter Knox's interruption earlier had resulted in her being so far behind. She'd just reached for the next book in her pile when a large hand closed gently over her own, trapping it between cool flesh and sun-kissed leather.

"I think it's time we call it a day," Professor Clairmont suggested gently, withdrawing his hand to elegantly flick the book he'd been reading shut.

Diana allowed her eyes to drift back down to her list. She had marked off more than half of the items on it, but not enough for her to feel happy with what she'd managed to achieve that day. Her anger at Knox flared again at that moment, but instead of white-hot rage burning through her veins, it felt like a sharp ice-cold wind rushing through her ears.

Clairmont's hand closed over her own once more, pulling Diana's attention back to the present. He'd probably been trying to talk to her and she'd likely ignored every word he'd just said.

"Sorry. I uh … I think you're right. I'll save this and then start packing up."

Diana turned her attention back to her laptop and quickly began saving all of her files. From the corner of her eyes, she watched as Clairmont cleared away whatever project he'd been working on all day, and then neatly stacked the books he'd been using for it. Diana did her best to organize the mess of open books around her into two stacks to return, while stuffing notepads and pens into her bag.

"Let me takes these for you," Clairmont offered, as he added his own books to the pile Diana had made to return to the stacks around them.

"Thank you."

Somehow, even with two different sets of books to put away, Clairmont was still back at Diana's side as she swung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the manuscripts she needed to return. She didn't need to check to see if he was following her out of the room. She could feel that soft flurry of snow dancing over her shoulders as she made her way towards the returns desk.

"All finished for today, Diana?" Sean asked, when she set the heavy books down in front of him.

"Yeah, but I haven't finished with this one yet." Diana ran her index finger gently over the spine of the book at the bottom of her small stack. Thanks to Peter Knox, she hadn't even cracked it's cover open. "Could you keep it aside for me and I'll start with it tomorrow?"

"Of course." Sean lifted his head from the computer screen he'd been staring at to offer Diana a reassuring smile and then reached for the books she wanted to return. "So, uh … what are your plans for the rest of the night?" he asked, as casually as he could manage.

"I'm just gonna get some food and finish working on a paper I have due next week." Diana's tummy gave a small growl of agreement at her plans and she hoped that it was quiet enough to go unheard by the two men around her. "Have a great evening, Sean."

"Yeah … you too, Diana," he called back, gathering up her books and turning from the desk just as she pushed her way out of the building.

"That boy has a crush on you," Clairmont stated, when they were finally outside. His tone was completely emotionless, almost like he was remarking on how dull the weather was.

"I'm aware of that."

It hadn't taken long for Diana to notice how flustered Sean got whenever she was around, or how he always seemed to ask about her plans for the evenings and weekends. As much as she hated to see that look of disappointment on his face whenever she made it clear that she wasn't free, Diana knew she was doing the right thing. She already felt like she was being weighed down with the workload expected from a Ph.D. student. She couldn't imagine adding dating to that mix – especially if her date was someone like Sean, who she'd have to see on a regular basis even if things ended badly. After all, it wasn't like she could avoid the library for the rest of her stay in Oxford!

"So, where would you like to go?" Clairmont asked suddenly, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket.

"Go?"

"Do you prefer eating over coffee or wine?"

It took a moment for the words he'd spoken and the meaning behind them to fully sink in. "You don't have to do this," she told him. "Knox isn't here. He's not gonna know you were lying earlier to cover for me. And even if he did somehow find out, I could always say that something came up."

"I wouldn't have made the offer if I didn't intend to follow through with it," Clairmont assured her.

Diana remained frozen in place for a few seconds as she briefly considered her options. A part of her knew that her time would be better spent in the safety and comfort of her own room, studying before bed while she heated something to eat in the microwave. But a much larger part relished the thought of possibly being able to pull more information from Clairmont while they were off-campus, and in a more relaxed setting.

In the end, it was her desire for answers that won out over the more rational side of her mind.

"A glass of wine sounds good after today."

Clairmont's smile widened as he nodded for Diana to begin walking again, and then fell into step beside her. When she made a move to turn left and head for the pub, however, his hand shot out to tug gently on her arm, pulling her in the opposite direction.

"The pub's this way," Diana protested, hooking her thumb over her shoulder.

"And my car's this way."

"It'll probably take you longer to get parked than it would for us to walk," she argued.

"We're not going to that pub, Diana. That weak fruit juice they sell there is an insult to vintage merlot."

"Then where are we going?" she asked.

"To a little place I know, not far from here. Trust me, you'll still be close enough to home to feel safe, but you'll also be able to order a decent drink there too."

Diana stopped moving for a moment as she considered her options once again. If she'd been with anyone else, she'd have refused and headed straight back to New College. Everyone knew that you didn't get into a stranger's car, especially when that stranger was being so cryptic about where they were planning to take you. But if Clairmont had wanted to hurt her, he could have done it a dozen times over already. So with a slight nod of her head, Diana let him guide her towards the black Jaguar parked just down the street.

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 **For those of you who don't know, I'm going through some difficult times personally at the moment both with my health and in my private life, so I'm afraid updates will remain sporadic for the time being because I just don't have the time or energy to dedicate to my fandom life right now.**


	16. Chapter 16

Diana had absolutely no idea where they were. The small pub that Clairmont had taken her to was intimate and looked far more sophisticated than the ones she often frequented with her friends. The soft greys of the walls contrasted smartly with the dark bar and tables around the space, giving the whole place an expensive feel. It seemed to fit the professor perfectly.

Clairmont ordered them both a large glass of wine before he guided Diana out of the open doors at the back of the room, and onto the deck. The river behind them reflected the lights of the building and finally, Diana understood where she was.

"Do you come here often, Professor?"

"Occasionally," was all he said, as he took a seat at one of the small wooden tables. "It's a little more expensive than your regular choice of establishment, but the quality of drinks on offer here are far superior."

Diana didn't say anything but she didn't really need to. That first sip of wine had already proven Clairmont's point perfectly.

When it became apparent that he wasn't planning to speak first, Diana pushed aside her frustration to ask, "So … are you ever going to tell me how you know Peter Knox?"

"I've already told you, I only know _of_ him," the professor threw back.

"Bullshit! You seemed genuinely concerned about him following me when I called you this morning. You know more than you're letting on, _Professor_."

"Astute," Clairmont remarked, before taking a sip from his glass. He didn't elaborate on his remark. Instead, he went on to ask, "Would you like to order some dinner?"

Diana's tummy gave another rumble of agreement but she ignored it in favor of fixing her companion with a harsh glare. "No. I want some answers. You can't keep coming into my life like this, feeding me mysterious information and then refusing to explain it to me. I deserve to know what's going on."

"You're right, you do," Clairmont said, deflating Diana's anger slightly. "But I'm not sure you're ready to hear it."

"Excuse me?" she snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are? You might be a couple of steps above me on the academic ladder but that absolutely does not give you the right to make these kinds of decisions for me. In case you haven't noticed, _Professor,_ I'm an adult, not a child."

"My reluctance to discuss this with you has nothing to do with your age or any perceived lack of experience on my behalf, Miss Bishop."

"Then what is it about?" she pushed.

Clairmont appeared to consider his options for a moment while he sipped at his drink. Eventually, he straightened his shoulders and asked, "Tell me, what do you know of your family legacy?"

"My fam – what has my family got to do with this?"

" _Everything_ , Miss Bishop." He took another sip from his glass before stating, "Did you know that your ancestors can be traced back to Salem? Bridget Bishop was the first person to be executed during the Witch Trials."

"Of course I know that. Do you really think I'd have taken an interest in history and not bothered to research my own?"

"Then tell me what you know of the Bishop witches," he invited, sitting back in his seat as if anticipating a thrilling story.

"There's nothing to tell. Bridget Bishop was executed in 1692 after being found guilty of witchcraft. That's it."

Clairmont nodded his head as if what she'd said had given him something to think about – some kind of big decision to make. Diana was so lost with the direction their conversation had taken that she couldn't seem to put her outrage into words.

"What would you say if I told you that's not where the story ends?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat to fold his arms on top of the table. "What if I told you that's not even where the story begins?"

Diana chuckled bitterly at the audacity of his claim. She couldn't believe that a biochemist was sitting in front of her, trying to tell her about her own family history like he knew and understood it better than she _ever_ could.

"Excuse me?"

"What would you say if I told you that there was a whole other side to this world that you've been living in, Miss Bishop? A side that you appear to be completely unaware of, but one that I'm willing to bet your family already knows exists."

"Then I'd tell you that you're crazy," she snapped back, because how _dare_ he try and imply that her own family was lying to her. He didn't even know her, let alone the people she loved that she'd left behind in Madison.

"Am I? Think about it," he invited, giving her a moment to do just that. Diana opened her mouth to argue once more but before she could say anything, Clairmont spoke again. "Do you think what happened this morning was normal? That if it had been one of your peers on that river they'd have noticed they were being followed? That Peter Knox specifically was following them?"

"Most people know when they're being followed," she replied, because of that, Diana was certain.

"You'd be surprised how many don't," he countered, as a small smile played at the corners of his lips.

The sight of that smile only served to infuriate Diana more. This was not a time for his inside jokes.

"Look, if you're not going to give me any straight answers this evening then I don't see the point in continuing this conversation, _Professor."_

Before she could fully rise from her seat, Clairmont's hand shot out to wrap around her wrist as his eyes pleaded with her to stay where she was. To understand what he was saying.

"It's not that I don't want to. On the contrary, I feel like you would be much safer if you knew the truth, Miss Bishop. But it's not my place to inform you of the information that's being kept from you. I can only assume that it was done for a particular reason – one that you'll need to understand fully to be able to appreciate why you've been lied to for most of your life. When you know the truth, I'll be happy to carry on this conversation. Until then … what would you like for dinner?" he asked, sitting back in his seat to flash her a disarming smile.

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